darkforcesmushfandomcom-20200213-history
Ivan Hendershot
Personality Ivan is a bit of an enigma, but then again most Pooka are. Somewhat self-centered in his own enjoyment of life at the expense of others', he is nonetheless likeable otherwise. His easy grin and playful nature makes it obvious losing his sight was a minor setback in his outlook on life. There is a darker side of him, though. He enjoys the grittier edges of reality, the dirtier sides of enjoyment. Where most people would be enthralled by watching the Aurora Borealis, he'd much rather watch a house burn down. While some people enjoy romance and happy endings, Ivan gets bored. While some would prefer a nice restaurant, he'd want more to gank someone else's lunch from an ourdoor table at a cheap diner. He thrives off of conflict, excitement, hysteria and wrath. The more people involved the better. Sheet Attributes : Glamour: 4 Banality: 3 Willpower: 2 : Strength:3 Dexterity:2 Stamina:3 : Charisma:4 Manipulation:3 Appearance:3 : Perception:2 Intelligence:2 Wits:2 :Specialty(Charisma): Amusing '' Abilities : Talents: 13 ::* Brawl (2) ::* Insight (2) ::* Scrounging (3) ::* Streetwise (3) ::* Subterfuge (3) : Skills: 9 ::* Drive (1) ::* Demolitions (1-2) ::* Larceny(2) ::* Performance(4) (Expertise:Voice) (Specialty: Metal)'' ::* Stealth(1) : Knowledges: 0 (Uneducated) Ravaging Threshold Ivan regains Glamour by witnessing any sort of form of Mob Mentality or other shared emotions. That means the mosh pit at a concert, the fear and excitement of those watching a disaster, the anxiety of a store full of shoppers when the lights go out or thunder booms from outside, or the imaginative fantasies of patrons at a stripclub. In any case, there needs to be at least five people to be able to react in a way to unconsciously influence eachother through simple emotion. Merits & Flaws Merits ::*Nightclub(2)- Upon arriving at Crystal Springs, Ivan bought an abandoned warehouse and is now, slowly and with the aid of constant contact with his former Band Manager and his recommended contacts, learning the economics of running a business. He plans to turn the place into a stripclub. ::* Charmed Existence(5)- So far it's served him well, both on the street and off. It's helped him get away with many of his shenanigans. Flaws ::*Addiction(2)- Ivan has been, for years, addicted to hard liquor. Jack Daniels being his favorite. He has to indulge twice a day, at least, or else he gets a little cranky. He always keeps a bottle wherever he's staying, for emergencies... but God help humanity if he finds that bottle missing. ::*Blindness(0)- Ivan is completely blind, but his eyes are intact. Being about twenty when he was blinded, he's had to learn fast how to compensate. On the other hand, he /remembers/ how things look, so that's a plus. Three years was long enough for him to learn how to get by, but he cannot read braille and hasn't spent any time learning it. ::*Uneducated(5)- Because Ivan never went to school, and learned everything he knows from shelters and friends, he is rather uneducated. He knows the basics of reading and writing. Math is /tough/ but easy addition and subtraction is doable, and other skills are very obviously lacking in the poor fellow. Freebies Advancement Current +learn Advancement History Specialties & Expertise Metal Singer - Ivan is known for his gritty voice and ability to shift from smooth lovesong croons to ragged, horrific screams, all often utilized in his music. He pours emotion into his songs, whether it be psychotic or something you could play for your grandmother. If she was a cool grandmother. He is mostly known for his singing roar oh so loved in the metal genre. Backgrounds Fame(4) Contacts(1) Resources(2) Arts & Realms History "Well, I was born in Des Moines, Iowa. Don't ask me why Mom picked Iowa. It's like Australia... cut something off from the rest of the world for long enough and it's bound to develop its own kind of Natural Law. Mom was born'n raised there, so I guess she didn't have much of a choice. I never knew my dad: he booked it before I was born. Mom said he was an ass. I'm inclined to believe her. We didn't have a lot of money.... actually we didn't have any money. I was left on my own a lot. Mom was worried about me, sure, but then she had another kid and he was real sick. So, I was left on my own alot while she took care of him. I didn't mind, I liked looking after myself. "I grew up on the streets... yeah I know how that shit sounds. No I wasn't some goddamn gang banger. Wasn't poppin' caps or smackin' hos. If Des Moines has an official ghetto, I didn't get my invitation. I'm not proud of eating leftover pizza outta the dumpsters. Or roughing it with gangs. I was by myself a lot, actually. Sure there were a few gangs. But I didn't choose sides... they basically left me alone. Hell, sometimes they'd pay me to run "packages" where they needed it to go, once they assured themselves I wasn't interested in takin' whatever it was anywhere but where it was meant. I could care less about the drugs, more about the booze they had for me when I got back. I was addicted to alcohol by the time I was thirteen. Again. Not proud of it. But it helped things, ya know. I saw less and less of my mom and more and more of my favorite spot beneath a bridge. One day I found a busted acoustic and did my best to resurrect the old piece of shit. Wrote my first song. I wasn't very good with guitar, but those who heard me sing started pushing me to join a band. Sure, like I was gonna get together all the shithole kids who shivered with me under the bridge to get together for a few ditties. "Messin' around on the internet at the library... yeah that was before I got kicked out for surfin' the porn... I found a few local guys lookin' for a vocalist to work in their metal band, Avtomat. HA! You should have heard me back then. I sounded like I had absolutely no nuts and had been breathing helium my entire life. But hell, people liked it. We partied, we played, we drank, hell we even had groupies. Not bad for a buncha teenagers. I got my first tattoos when I was fifteen. One of my band members had a friend who agreed to do em. See? These lovely ladies on my arms? They were his idea. Told me they were the only women that'd never dumped me no matter what I did. It turned into a bit of an inside joke that whenever someone couldn't find me, I was off enjoying my usual Menage a Trois. "Things were going well. Soon, we were beginning to really make a name for ourselves locally. We began touring, but it was tough. We didn't always get along. We'd fight eachother just as readily as we'd take on some loud drunk dissing our music. It wasn't good, but hell. It happens. I was havin' trouble too. The band thought I was losing it. Telling me I was giggling about leprechauns in the Chex Mix and trolls pushing carts at Wal-Mart. They took away my Jack Daniels. My fuckin' JACK DANIELS. That musta been the biggest fight we'd ever had. The last time I remember playing with them was when it all really came to a head. We had a good sized chunk of kids, mostly highschoolers... they were really eating up our music. But then something weird started happening. S'like... god how can I explain it? Like shooting up, getting drunk, and hitting acid all at the same time. It was a music video of my death. The crowd was writhing in this big... fuckin'... whirlpool that was more than a moshpit. I thought it was swallowing me up. The music wasn't just instruments anymore. It was a storm, and my voice was like liquid fire that... fuckin' /came/ out of my mouth like I was a goddamned circus performer. It burned my in my head... but that was it. Everything was fine, but I didn't think it was. I just kept howlin' into the microphone, growling at this giant black hole of people, their energy seething off of them like a glimmering fuckin' /stench/ of sparkles that was clogging my nose and my eyes. I could smell them all, hear their heartbeats... it was /way/ too much. "The band said I slipped and fell. Musta hit my head. All I know is that they kept sayin' I was gettin' taken to the hospital. FUCK the hospital, I said. They'd just take away my Jack too. I was sick of that shit. But then I remember her voice. And she agreed. No hospitals. Wasn't my problem, I just fell and hit my head. I remember seein' her... we were in the back of the venue, I was on the couch and she was standin' over me like some seething snake. Wrapped in leather. I'd seen her before at some of our shows. Biker chick, but not the big fat butchers prowling for a bite or the leather-skinned cougars clingin' to their bearded mates at the bars. She was a goddess in black and silver, and her name was Ellen. Thing is... weird thing is... she had a tail. A long black cat-tail. First I thought she was one of those weirdos wearing ears and a sock out the back of their pants and meowed at people and went to fruity clubs. But she could move it. And she /did/ have ears, and her golden eyes... "I tried to get the others to see it. My bandmates had had enough. They didn't want anything to do with my 'psychosis' anymore. They packed up and left, right then and there, and whoever this chick was, Ellen, she stayed. There were a few other people too, all lookin' at me. There was a huge dude with blue skin and ram's horns. Some grizzly, skinny guy with goat feet. A really tall, goth chick with tentacles instead of fingers. Ellen introduced herself, and told me what was up. I figured the Jack was just messin' with me again. I wanted to believe I was a munchkin or shapeshifter or whatever she was telling me, but really? /Seriously/? I remember laughing at her. What else could I do? I was tripping balls. Then I remember getting the shit knocked out of me. Girl could fuckin' hit! I mean, sure I'd had my fair share of knocks, but not like that. So... needless to say I started takin' her a little more seriously. For the first time, ever, it felt like someone had knocked me full of sober. "She introduced me to the others. Our motley, she called 'em. Told me she'd be lookin' after me for a while. What's really funny? Seriously, this... really knocked me silly... after all that crap about The Dreaming and stuff? They wanted to be my new band. Or rather, wanted me to be in their band. She was vocalist, but she said she was gonna step down and see how I handled the wheel. So I took the job. "During the day, we toured. We played, we jammed, we partied. We were called Killworthy. People liked us 'cause we were good. We even got together and recorded a few cds. They didn't do too badly. No one could see what they were, and I learned why. We were different. Fuckin' fancy. During the night, she'd show me what it was like to be a Pooka. Don't laugh. Hey! Don't laugh! I'm serious. I know it sounds funny but... hey ya know, whatever, moving on. She was one too. I remember the first time she showed me how to shapeshift. She asked me if I had any fond memories of an animal when I was a child. The only on I could think of was Bowser, a dog that'd hung out with me for a few years. I really-... what? What breed? The hell- I don't know. Just a dog. A mutt. Why does it matter? Moving on. I'd watched Bowser grow up, fed him, slept with him... before he got hit by a car. Thinkin' about him, I felt myself change. It felt natural. I was home for the first time in my life, and that was with all four feet on the ground and my nose already diggin' through the trash for goodies. "It was ironic that Ellen was a cat. We were both strays, cityfolk. Our motley toured to cities, big cities, and during the day the population loved us. During the night, they hated us. We reveled in that irony, two creatures tipping garbage cans and stealing food right out of people's open doors. A lot of it we'd get away with just by people stopping and staring at the fact that two creatures, who very much /should/ be mortal enemies, were working together to harass the Average Joe. God was I into Ellen. Sure she was a little older than me, but who the hell cares? She understood, right? "I was...hmn. Twenty, I think, when our play started gettin' a little rougher. Not just towards other people either. To eachother. The stupid pranks and dumbass thefts weren't enough. We started leadin' children away, just to see their parent's faces. HA! You should /see/ the look on a soccer mom when she turns around an' lil Timmy is gone. Sometimes we gave 'em back, other times we just let the cops find 'em, because we were too busy giggling. We did other things too. We hotwired cars, drove them around, parked them in weird places, or just the same place without any gas left. We started blowing up things. Setting fire to houses. We were often pretty sure we didn't really hurt anyone, but who knows? Sure, there were casualties once or twice. But it's all for the greater fun, right? I remember when we burned down an old warehouse without knowing some old homeless lady was living in it. That was when I discovered how /delicious/ screams of pain were. "I remember watching her getting pulled out of the burning wreckage by the firefighters, while I sat in the shadows as Bowser. There was something /perfect/ about her noises, it seemed so right. I'd never been so transfixed in my life. Her screams were like music to my ears, and the fear and excitement radiating from the crowd was heady. It intrigued me endlessly. I remember sitting there all night. "The relationship between Ellen and I was becoming rocky. After our gigs and parties, the motley would disperse, usually. But Ellen and I? We were always together. Attached at the hip. She was the love of my life, but she was also my teacher. I couldn't just tell her how I felt. But that bitch knew it and tortured me endlessly. She wanted to /make/ me say it, and she used every method she could to wrench it from me. One day it got to be too much. "Everyone in the band knew we were together. We didn't care. We fit together and we knew it. Gerod, our drummer, you remember me mentionin' him? He's the troll with the mohawk. He made the most hilarious faces whenever he'd see us touch. His nose would wrinkle all up and his skin would get all sorts of purple. PURPLE, not red! He had blue skin! Fuckin' hilarious. Sometimes Ellen'n I'd make out right in front of him just to see him storm off. On our second national tour, we ended up in New York. The usual shenanigans... terrorize the venues, terrorize the public, then go back to the hotel and terrorize eachother. I remember New York like it was yesterday. That was the last place I saw. "Ellen and I were at the hotel. We were a little distracted, so we didn't hear the door unlock and open. All I remember was not being able to move or talk, so I guess the same must have happened to her. Whatever this guy was, he wasn't normal. He wasn't like us either. He could do things with his mind or something, and we were helpless. We couldn't even shapeshift.. not that that'd help us. I remember his words, but not what he looked like. It was dark. He told us... he asked if we remembered the little girl we'd led astray with promises of play and the unconditional love of two cutesy animals. Back in Vegas. VEGAS of all places. I guess it was a rhetorical question, since we weren't allowed to speak. He went on, anyway. Apparently this little girl was his daughter, and now she was dead. She never did make it back home, like she was supposed'ta. Some douchebag fucked the game up. Killed her. This guy... this guy with mind powers, told us he found her, and read her last memories. Knew exactly what we did. "I guess we coulda tried to explain. Who we are and what we do. It was a joke! He needed to just... lighten up a little. There were a ton of little kids out there, we could get him another one easy. He wasn't amused. Guess we shoulda seen it coming. Hahah, get it? Seen-... oh well, I guess it doesn't make sense yet. Anyway, he was gonna kill us. Sure. Who could blame 'im. But then he changed his mind. Got a better idea. In retrospect, it was a /good/ idea. He let us live. Figured we might get together, have kids someday. Hoped we would anyway. So I was made to watch when he tore out her tongue. Good thing she wasn't the frontman, right? Told her that, one day, her child might go missing. And she'd never be able to call out and find her. "To me, he did something else. Not sure what, but all I can remember is lookin' at him, and suddenly, he seemed to fade into shadow. That shadow is all I've lived with since. I remember his voice sayin pretty much the same thing about... kids... not being able to find them. Douchebag. I don't think he heard me call him that though, because I survived. He musta left. "It was interesting, trying to continue our lives as a band, with one mute guitar player and a blind frontman. Not too many people were amused with our name-change either. I guess "Handicapped Parking" doesn't float well with the general public who have bleeding hearts for people with wheelchairs. Guess they couldn't see how many of 'em were at our shows now. Hahaha, guess I couldn't either! I'm sure Ellen woulda /told/ me if there were anyway. Hahahahahaaaa!!! Moving on... "Something strange had come over me, since that night at the hotel. Since I lost my sight. I relied heavily on touch after that. Sex with Ellen was amazing, but there seemed to be something missing. Something more, that I needed other than the simple act. So one day, while we were together, I remember feelin' for her neck. It was like my hand was sort of doing its own thing, seeking to choke off her breathing. At first she liked it, judging by how she was moving. But then I got a little tighter. I needed more. I remember hearing her choked gurgling, her whimpers of pain. I'd never felt so alive than when I did that to her. So next time, I did it again, taking it farther and farther, step by step. She couldn't tell me when to stop, but I knew when it was becoming dangerous. "Now... I've heard the whole thing about not hurtin' women. And I agree. Threatening someone weaker than you is less than admirable. But Ellen was more than a woman. She was a Pooka. I knew she could take it. At first I was scared shitless of what she'd do to me, then I realized I wasn't afraid. I was excited. I dared her to try. Instead she disappointed me. She began to drift away from me. We had sex less and less... and I had to rely on our slowly dispersing crowd of groupies for what I needed. "Needless to say, things were falling apart. We were headed the same direction as Avtomat, so I saw it coming *snicker*. It was getting boring anyway. Sure the crowds were nice, but you could start riots and hysteria with fire just as well as music. So we broke up. Gerod and the others went off to start their own thing, and Ellen... well... she dumped me. Dumped me hard. Through Gerod. I guess I shoulda seen it coming. How the hell were we supposed to have a relationship when I couldn't see her gestures? Her expressions? How was I supposed to learn anything from her if she couldn't speak? I guess it wasn't a bad idea. Gerod was happy, anyway. "So I was left to wander. I didn't stay in one place too long, shifted from city to city, some blind homeless kid, or some mangey stray who obviously had rabies or something worse that took away his eyesight. The latter tended to cause a bit of a stir, so sometimes I acted upon it when I felt it was safe enough. I bit children. I scared the crap out of businessmen. I steered clear of the rednecks with guns. Fortunately, my nose and ears helped me a lot as Bowser, so I relied on it. "I visited a few freeholds along the way. Got to know others of my kind. Sometimes they'd see me for who I was, and sometimes they saw me for who I used to be, the former singer of Killworthy. A lot of them helped me out, gave me a place to stay, in return for favors. Most of the time those favors involved getting back at someone I didn't even know. A mercenary of mischief. "During my travels, I remember hanging out at some skeezy bar... hell, it smelled skeezy. A voice in my ear whispered "Crystal Springs". When I reached out, listened, sniffed, I knew it was a Satyr. She told me about Crystal Springs, the healing reputation it had there. Guess she felt bad for me. I woulda loved to see a look of pity. If she's right, there's a chance I might enjoy that sight again." Etc Gallery File:Ivan3.jpg|I win. File:Ivan2.jpg|This is my Jack. You don't take it. File:Ivan4.jpg|Recording. File:Ivan10.jpg|Rocking out. File:Ivan11.jpg|This shit is what happens when I let my hair grow out. File:Ivan9.jpg|It's not Jack, but it works! File:Ivan_Dog.jpg|Woof.